


Observant

by jeannamarin



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Developing Relationship, Doubt, M/M, Obliviousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 13:26:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5050276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeannamarin/pseuds/jeannamarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abe Takaya is Very Observant</p><p>or</p><p>800 words about how Abe can't tell that Mihashi is gone for him big time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Observant

**Author's Note:**

> This was a commission! If you're interested you can contact me here or thru my tumblr @abetakayasmom

Abe Takaya was observant, and he knew that about himself. He could read the signals a batter gave off in less than a second, and the 9 zone target Mihashi kept in his backyard was mirrored by the one he kept in his head during a game. He knew how much Mihashi needed to eat and how much he was sleeping. There wasn’t much that went down with the team, much less his pitcher, that he didn’t know about.

Abe Takaya didn’t just let things ‘slip by’. Not if he could help it.

So Abe’s current mystification at the behavior of his pitcher disturbed and alarmed him.

He swore they had been getting along well - that Mihashi could voice his opinions around him. Hell, in the last game, Mihashi had shaken off a sign and neither of them had a conniption.

So why, why, why was it that as soon as Mihashi stepped off the mound lately, he became a sweaty, red faced mess?

Abe thought about it, over dinner with his family - who needled him about being sullen, of course. Mihashi’s blubbering these days wasn’t the same as it used to be, back when he would flinch at the slightest thing. Now, Mihashi wasn’t jerking away from Abe’s touch. When Abe would clap him on the shoulder, he’d stiffen and then he would go slack, a high pitched whistle coming from his throat as he melted like a popsicle in the summer heat.

And then there was his new habit. His habit of approaching Abe during their lunch hour, taking up all of his time, and managing to hold a conversation without really saying anything significant at all.

It wasn’t that Abe expected Mihashi to suddenly become this great communicator. But at least before, in the short period of bliss between Mihashi’s two separate phases of meltdowns, they had been able to talk!

“AUGH!” he slammed his hand down on the dinner table, earning him a sharp rap to the back of the head from his mother and a sentence of doing everyone’s dishes.

He didn’t mind, though, it gave him more time to think.  
\--  
Abe kept thinking, all throughout morning practice, the school day, through the usual lunch with Mihashi talking and him listening with a fond but impatient ear, and into afternoon practice.

Mihashi’s hand had been overflowing with heat, so it wasn’t his nerves or his fear that was the problem - something that gave Abe a lot of relief. It couldn’t have been anything he’d done, because Sakaeguchi hadn’t taken him aside to gently chide him in a long time, nor had Tajima forcibly butted into one of his and Mihashi’s interactions to sweep Mihashi away.

He was doing well! They had been doing well.

At least on the field they could communicate. Through practice, Abe called the pitches like he always did and Mihashi - well, Mihashi was actually in top form despite his off-field demeanor. There was a glint in his eyes, a glimmer that Abe caught himself focusing on and latching onto, a scatter of sparks erupting in his chest every time one of Mihashi’s pitches smacked into the mitt, right on target.

Whatever Mihashi’s hangup was, it hadn’t broken that connection they had worked so hard to gain.

Momoe called them in for a huddle, and in said huddle Abe slung his arm around Mihashi’s shoulders to test the waters.

Mihashi’s eyes slid over, slid back, and his mouth became a crinkly line, a pinched giggle coming from between his tightly clamped lips. But he didn’t pull away.

Huh.  
\--  
When it hits him, he’s knocking the caked dirt off his cleats in the dugout. Abe freezes mid-whack, shoe raised in the air and eyes wide.

He feels stupid for even thinking it three seconds later. Other than what he’s been doing lately there’s no evidence that Mihashi is… like him. He’s known it about himself since the start of middle school, and in that same early period had decided that he was fine with being single in perpetuity. Guys just didn’t - Abe was different. He knew that he was, and that he would be lucky to find another guy that was like him. For it to be Mihashi would just be too easy, too good. The universe didn’t look out for Abe Takaya that way.

“T-taka?”

But there was the way Mihashi said his name. It made look up, swallow the hopelessness, and let himself believe that Mihashi liked him in that way.

“Ren, what is it?” And the way Mihashi’s face opened up and glowed, when Abe said his name. Whenever the cautious fire of hope was threatening to go out, Mihashi did something to feed it anew.

“Takaya, your... shoe?”

And Abe laughed, and so did Mihashi, and the fire roared.


End file.
